Stormy
by burst 'N bloom
Summary: And you were in love, so ridiculously so. How could he not love you back? It was fate and you two were just perfect halves of the universe. You look back on it now and wonder how you could have been so stupid. Inoue-centric.


**Disclaimer**: Bleach is not mine.

**Pairings**: One-sided IchiHime, slight KaiRuki, IchiRuki

So, it's not that I like Orihime but I don't hate her either. I just think she's got a lot of dimensions to work with and she has a very... 3-d character that emphasizes her flaws and her good points. So I like writing her. Sorta. I don't know if this is any good, but it's been sort of nagging at me for a while.

I hope no one thinks I'm hating on her, cause I'm not I just can't imagine her with Ichigo. Like, seriously. That being said, this will obviously not end happy for them.

Anyways, enjoy and review! :)

* * *

It began with a cursory glance – a glance above wet sidewalk cracks that streamed like tiny arteries, and it turned into a stare. That's how it always began.

You were holding your brother's hand, walking alongside his tall figure in the rain. The ground was wet so you kicked at a puddle because you never did like the rain and all that water was making you feel a little sour inside though you'd never admit to it.

The droplets splashed across the street and you heard the sound of a footstep moving backwards, so you looked up and a little boy stared at you from across the street with a wilting daisy in his hands. Water was dripping from his cheek down his chin, and his wide brown eyes stared down at the flower in his hands to the flying bits of water in the air. He blinked.

You wanted to ask him if he was ok – because you'd never seen such strange brown eyes before – but your brother squeezed your hand tight and pulled you under the rooftop of a nearby store because he knew you hated being wet, saying ("_Orihime, don't let go, ok?")_

He said it because your hand had become slippery under the pouring water and he smiled so you nodded, one hand protectively holding onto your backpack strap and the other snug in his larger grip.

You were happy that day, because Sora was _finally_ walking you home and those nasty girls couldn't tug at your hair when he was around, and you were happy because your brother was holding your hand, but something just felt wrong.

You glanced back across the street and saw the little boy again, staring at you with wide vacant eyes. The daisy slipped from his fingers and landed in a wet puddle, a soft _plop_ in the empty street. He looked at the fallen flower, then at you, and those sick burning eyes made you feel queasy inside but you didn't know why.

All you knew was Sora wanted you to look forward when you walked, so you turned around and continued walking home, half expecting the little boy to follow you with his eyes, those haunting brown eyes of his, but when you turned to your right to look over your shoulder, he was already kneeling down for the daisy, completely unaware of your existence.

---

When you got back home, you had already forgotten about the entire walk. You were warm, safe, and full and everything was perfect. Sora had made you dinner and helped you with your math homework and the only thing ruining your mood was that horrible thundering outside.

Storms never did know when to quit.

You went to bed at 10:00, all tucked in and Sora turned off the lights but you could still see the flashing white lightning and hear the roar of the wind outside. It scared you – but only a little – and then in the flash of white lights, you remembered those brown eyes and how sad they looked.

So you shut your eyes, screwed them closed as tightly as you could to try and block the image out, but the eyes just stared at you on and on and on. The blankets were too heavy on you and you wanted to rip them off and run back into Sora's arms, but he was busy working and you were a good girl so you pretended to sleep.

The storm raged on and you never forgot those eyes.

Then one day you turned nine, and your brother died in a car accident with flashing lights and muted screams. You weren't there when it happened, but you knew. Even without the details, you knew.

Earlier that morning, you'd argued with him – said things you didn't mean – and it was funny how death could string you along that way, make you regret that _one_ day so much.

Suddenly the sapphire pins in your hair felt heavier and frightening, as if they held evidence of your betrayal.

The pins were childish – they were. You knew it but he didn't, so you argued with him because you _weren't_ a child anymore and you could pick out your own things without his help. But now you realized that in this world, you were suddenly bitterly alone, wrapped with no one's arms around you and surrounded by the absence of love. All because of those _stupid childish_ words you'd said.

So you punished yourself by weighing your heart down with Sora's death every morning. The pins would go in your orange hair and you'd touch them every so often and be reminded of those words you'd said, and you'd tell yourself '_I won't ever say words like that to anyone ever again'_ and you never did.

Because those pins weighed you down so heavily and you hated them but loved them at the same time. You could feel Sora's breath on your neck now and then like a heavy weight across your back and it was scary, yes, but it was punishment deserved.

That's what you told yourself.

You'd never bothered to realize the wide brown eyes that watched you touch your pins absently, those wide brown eyes that had seen your brother die, and was now watching you suffocate under the weight of his death.

---

It did surprise you a little bit that you hadn't made the connection sooner. Kurosaki Ichigo - he'd always been that angry boy in the corner, the one who always scowled at anyone who got in his way – the kind of boy that no one wanted to really talk to. He had bright orange hair just like you and he had brown eyes that looked ready to kill.

They weren't the shocking, frighteningly raw brown eyes you remembered - those eyes, the soft caramel color of which would haunt you for years on end.

But you knew – remembered – in a flash of storm with the rain pouring down when you saw him standing in front of the hospital with a small flower in his hands. He was headed to a gravestone, he'd said. His mother's. Then that emptiness swallowed you whole and you realized once and for all that _he _was the one that had been haunting you for all those years.

Somehow, it all made sense to you in that moment. And you couldn't let it go.

He'd been in the room where Sora died, he'd been in the streets when you had walked home with your brother, and he'd been following you in your mind with those frighteningly sincere eyes of his for years.

From then on, you knew. It was never _just_ a glance – it was like fate had meant for you two to meet.

And it was strange that those haunting eyes filled with such harshness and roughness could make a part of your chest flutter so fervently at your ribs. It was a strange and foreign sensation, but you liked the feeling and you only got it when he looked at you.

Because those eyes, frightening as they were, were so gentle sometimes and it made your chest clench with what you could only attribute as a strange hopeful fear. You vaguely wondered if you were a closet masochist.

But you didn't wonder long because you were caught up in a whirlwind of happenings. Events that made you wonder if you'd lost your mind, events that made you wonder if you should've been locked up in an institution. Because things _things that weren't supposed to happen_ happened, like the boy with haunting eyes appearing before you while you were dying and saving you. Memories of demons spurting from the sky and that boy you were obsessed with clad in a fluttering black outfit, swinging a glittering sword through the heads of the monsters.

It made no sense, and no amount of thinking helped. But when he turned around to glance over at you – a short cursory glance of his wide brown eyes – filled with unadulterated concern, you must've realized then that what you felt wasn't fear, but love.

---

And you were in love, so ridiculously so. You brushed aside all rational thought in your mind because how could he not love you back? It was fate and you two were just perfect halves of the universe.

You look back on it now and wonder how you could have been so stupid.

How had it never occurred to you that you might have been waiting on the wrong half? That those things you loved about him – those eyes, oh those _eyes_ that filled with unspoken tenderness and that determination in his soul – they were never meant for you.

Somehow, you always did know in the back of your mind that he never loved you and never would. You knew but you pretended not to know, because saying it outright would only solidify the fact. You knew, but really, was she _that_ much better than you?

Kuchiki Rukia…

You hated the feelings that bubbled up in your chest and the words that threatened to escape your lips when you thought of her, like '_I hate them. I hate you'_ and you absently brushed your fingertips against the glittering pins in your hair.

You wouldn't say the words – no. They would sit inside those stupid childish hairpins and weigh you down forever so you could be the perfect friend with the perfect smile pasted on your perfectly fake face.

Because Kuchiki-san was a friend first and foremost, even if you knew that Ichigo's eyes softened with a sort of sweetness you'd never seen directed to you when he looked at her. Even when you knew there was something horribly off about the way he was so desperately searching for her in Soul Society.

You ignored those pounding thoughts in your mind and nodded, _yes, Ichigo and Orihime. Two halves to a perfect world. A perfect couple. We'd be wonderful together._

But it took more than petty little lies to veil the cold hard truth when it slapped you across the face.

You were walking home, clutching the handle of your yellow purse, on your way back from the grocery store. The streets were empty and it was quiet, but the sun was gleaming down on the sidewalk and you breathed in the air, thinking the weather couldn't have been better.

You felt a tingling on your back, whispering caresses across your shoulder blades, so you instinctively turned and caught eyes with a familiar pair of brown eyes staring at you.

He grinned and waved lazily, one hand attempting to hide a bouquet of daisies that were splayed across his tan skin. You smiled, crossing the street, and he shoved the daisies away even further. He said your name in that low voice of his and you wished he hadn't have because somehow you felt even more in love.

He scratched his orange hair lightly and glanced up at the sky nervously, a slight frown gracing his lips. Then the lips opened and he muttered quietly, while thrusting out the daisies into your face.

"Inoue, do you think… Rukia would like these?"

And there, you remembered, was the slap across the heart that made you stagger back a little. _It was never you_. You stared down at the blooming yellow tips and the beautiful array of flowers and breathed slowly, with that perfect little smile gracing your lips in a perfect display of control.

"Of .. Of course, Kurosaki-kun! They're almost as pretty as Kuchiki-san herself." And they were, of course. You hadn't been lying then.

His features visibly lightened, the worried muscles in his face relaxing instantly. The wide brown eyes looked down at the flowers as he muttered quietly '_man, when did I become such a…'_ accompanied by a short beautiful laugh that you wished you could bottle up and listen to at night though you knew you had no right to.

"Thanks, Inoue. It's uh- it's not what you think! Not like that at all, I just.. " A soft blush dusted over his nose and you wished you could block out his words, because you were sure that from afar, the scene would appear so drastically different. And he was so beautiful and so perfect and you were in love and _he didn't even realize what he was doing to you _–

"Ichigo, you're finally confessing your feelings for Orihime, huh? About time!" A crystalline voice laughed as a small figure appeared at your elbow. The bobbing head of black hair grinned at Ichigo and waved at you and him together.

"I-no, you brat! That's not it at all!" Ichigo shouted, suddenly waving the daisies in a flustered mess. "I just saw them and they – I don't know. Thought _you_ might like em." He muttered, shoving the daisies into Rukia's bewildered face. You didn't miss the emphasis on the '_you_', the pointed arrow of his affections so narrowly missing you.

She blinked slowly, then glanced at Ichigo's flustered expression to your own stone cold, perfectly controlled smile.

"Oh. I prefer roses, actually." Rukia daintily gathered up the flowers in her arms and placed them inside your gaping purse. "Daisies suit the living anyways." She smiled and slapped Ichigo on the back. "Well, go on then! I have to talk to Orihime about something."

Ichigo slowly moved away, confusion clearly etched on his face, and at that moment you wanted to cry so badly. The tears were sloshing behind your eyes and you felt them pounding at your lids to let them go free, because here was Rukia, that girl you almost considered your friend, that girl that you almost hated, the girl you wished would just disappear, and she had just done something inconceivable.

You stared at the daisies in your purse and blinked, breathing controlled and thoughts tightly wound. She turned her lavender eyes at you and gave you a soft smile, before turning to watch Ichigo leave. Then he was gone.

"Kuchiki-san, Kurosaki-kun got these for you. Don't you-" _'I hate you, I hate you and I hate them.'_

"Stop it." Rukia pulled your wrist down and pulled you down to sit at a metal bench, where she turned and stared with those impossibly purple eyes. "Ichigo's a kid, he doesn't know what he wants. He doesn't know anything." Her tone was harsh and clipped, so contrary to the image she'd been projecting a few minutes ago. You wondered if perhaps she even hated the boy for his feelings. But that wasn't it because that compassion was so clearly reciprocated between the two and you wondered what was wrong.

"Kuchiki-san… " You let out a strangled laugh, hoping she wouldn't notice how pathetic you looked. "Kurosaki-kun got these for you. He must really care for you, ne?" Suddenly those tears that had been clinging desperately to your brimming lashes slipped and began raining down on your lap. You laughed because this wasn't the sort of day to be crying, much less any reason to cry.

"Orihime, I know you love him. And I have no right to get in between you two. Even if I cared for him, I can't be what you can." She fished through her pockets and pulled out a tissue, handing it over to you. You dabbed at the tears but no matter how frequently you cleared your cheeks, they seemed to double over with water in a matter of seconds. "I used to love somebody… His name was Kaien-dono and he looked… just like Ichigo." A soft smile appeared on her lips and you wanted to hurt her, hurt her so much in that moment for thinking about anyone other than Ichigo when he was so clearly in love with her. "I don't want Ichigo to be a replacement, and I don't want him to fall in love with someone he can't have – remember, Inoue, I'm dead. No matter what he feels, he's still a child."

She stood up and brushed her skirt off lightly. In her full height, you only barely had to look up to meet her eyes. "Orihime, don't let go, ok?"

'Like _Sora's hand__ in the raining streets with Ichigo's haunting eyes watching. "Orihime, don't let go, ok?"' _

"I love him so much that I don't want him to be hurt by the inevitable fact that I can't love him. But _you_, Inoue, you can." Then she walked away with a faint smile on her lips, leaving a gaping hole in your chest.

That was when the truth came out and you hated that day, hated her, hated him for doing this to you. But you couldn't help all that overwhelming _love_ in your chest and you didn't want to hate him.

So instead you hated yourself. Another memory to add to your pins to weigh you down. Another failing. Because in Kuchiki-san's words, you felt true love for Ichigo. A sort of star-crossed lovers deal that you knew you couldn't rival.

And even when she outright denied Ichigo, he never once looked for you. He only stared at her retreating back and the sounds of his shattering heart should've done you in but you were already broken down.

You hated yourself so much – _so damn much_ – because you knew your love wasn't as pure as hers. You couldn't have given up Ichigo for any reason and you knew it. Your love was selfish and pathetic and obsessive but you didn't want to forfeit him.

How much would it kill, you wondered, if you could just destroy those pins, destroy those promises, and tell the world just how you felt? It would hurt a little, you imagined. But this hurt a hell of a lot more than anything you could fathom.

Ichigo didn't love you now and he wouldn't love you in the future. How impossibly stupid had you been, to imagine that a short glance in the middle of a rainy street and the wide vacant look in his eyes meant that fate would bring you together?

The storm outside had subsided but for some reason the storm in your chest never seemed to know when to quit, but this time you didn't have Sora's comforting arms or Ichigo's warm smile to keep you safe.

You cried inside and the tears dribbled out to your skin in cascading torrents, without any semblance of stopping.

Storms never did know when to quit.

* * *

Meh.

I had a lot of ideas for this but I got decently lazy afterwards. I was gonna add arrancar stuff but I thought it might get really long so I was like, whatever.

OOOHHH WELLLL.


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